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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078410">Espresso Kiss</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightandpinot/pseuds/starlightandpinot'>starlightandpinot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>12daysofBOM, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Christmas, Connor is a sweetie, Fluff, Getting Together, Kevin is a mess, Light Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Poverty, Romance, Self-Indulgent, but what else is new, meet cute, this fic is really Soft, unsupportive families</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:28:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightandpinot/pseuds/starlightandpinot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin is absolutely <em>not</em> upset about being alone on Christmas Eve, but when he meets a handsome stranger during his shift at the coffee house, his night takes a turn for the better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>12 Days of Book of Mormon (2020)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Espresso Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello!! This is my contribution for Day 1 &amp; Day 2 for the 12 Days of BOM challenge! </p><p><b>Day 1 prompt:</b> "Stay. You can't spend Christmas Eve alone."<br/><b>Day 2 prompt:</b> Favorite McPriceley tropes</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Snow was falling heavily outside the café window, forming large, powdery drifts along the sidewalk. Person after person bustled past, many of them decked out from head to toe in soft, colorful knits and wools. Some of them carried children, while others carried luggage and oversized shopping bags as they made their way through the city streets. Warm white twinkle lights lined the trim of neighboring restaurants and shops, transforming the normally-gray street into a scene from a Christmas card. </p><p>Not that Kevin had much of a chance to look at it, as he was the only one on shift that day. It was Christmas Eve and six o’clock could<em> not</em> come fast enough. He glanced at the wall clock that hung above the door. <em>2:15</em>. Three hours and forty-five minutes left and then he could<em> finally</em> go home. Not that he had much to go home<em> to</em>, but anything would be better than this.</p><p>It was about to be his very first Christmas in New York City and, after his parents had made it clear they didn’t want him to fly home, also the first he’d be spending alone. </p><p>But that was just as well, he thought as he shoved the espresso wand into the machine a little harder than necessary. He couldn’t have afforded the flight home, anyway. But his parents knew that—they <em>knew</em> that—and if they <em>really</em> wanted to see him, they could have easily paid for his ticket. They had more than enough money to do so. But just as they’d been doing every chance they got since Kevin returned home from Uganda, branded by the Church a failure and a disgrace, they seemed to have made it their personal mission to disappoint him. And even though, logically, he knew that this <em>particular</em> disappointment shouldn’t have felt all that different from the rest, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it still kind of <em>was</em>. This was <em>Christmas</em>, after all. The most wonderful time of year. And the most wonderful time of year should be spent with the people you love.</p><p>He loved Arnold like he loved his family and would have been perfectly content to spend the holidays with him, but his best friend was attending college back home in Utah and could barely afford his textbooks, let alone a cross-country flight. Besides, his best friend had his family to spend Christmas with, along with Nabulungi who was here on a fiancé visa. And short of asking Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham to front him a four-hundred dollar plane ticket, seeing his best friends this Christmas was simply a lost cause. </p><p>He would call them tomorrow, of course. They’d do a Facetime or something while they open their gifts and pretend they were together, like they had been for a year and a half in Uganda, but he knew it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing was, anymore. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He spent the next hour running around from table to table, filling coffees and bringing people toasted croissants and lukewarm sandwiches. He couldn’t believe the crowd that was packed into this place. It was <em>Christmas Eve</em>, for goodness sakes. Shouldn’t they all be home with their families instead of staring at their laptops and barking at him for a refill?</p><p>“Alright, what’ll it be?” He sighed at whoever was sitting at table three, pen poised on his pad without looking up. He had stopped bothering with the basic niceties several hours ago, as the less time he had to spend on small talk, the faster he could serve them and send them on their merry way. When this particular customer didn’t answer him, however, he was forced to lower his pad and look down. </p><p>He was momentarily taken aback by the state of this man. He was hunched over his laptop, eyes laser-focused on the screen as he frantically typed away at an ungodly speed. He was still bundled up from head to toe in winter wear, despite the café’s rapidly cranking radiator, the knitted blue pom-pom hat on his head soaking wet from melted snow. The reddish tufts of hair poking out from the bottom of the hat looked rather wild and unkempt and <em>of course—</em>Kevin sighed—of <em>course</em> there was a giant pair of <em>headphones</em> hugging his ears as he poured over whatever was <em>so </em>important on his laptop. And on full blast, no doubt, judging by the audible hum of music emanating from the speakers. No wonder he couldn’t hear him. As cute as this boy was with his frost-nipped nose and rosy cheeks, slightly masking what was visibly a smattering of freckles, Kevin had had enough of this.</p><p>“Yoo hoo!” He waved a hand in front of the man’s face, making him yelp and jump back with a start.</p><p>Kevin felt a slight pang of guilt at having been so rude, but he was having a <em>day</em> and just wanted to go home. It wasn’t helping matters that he had absolutely nobody to go home <em>to</em>, which was <strike>definitely</strike> absolutely <em>not </em>putting a damper on his Christmas spirit. It also didn’t help that the café had been playing the same ten instrumental Christmas tunes on repeat for the past four weeks. He could honestly punch the next person who dared to hum along to <em>Deck the Halls</em> in front of him. </p><p>“Sorry,” Kevin apologized as the man in front of him visibly struggled to regain his composure. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but you had your headphones on pretty loud.”</p><p>“No, I know.” The man shook his head, letting out a breath as he relinquished the hand from his chest. “I’m sorry. That must be so annoying for you, when people do that. I just can’t concentrate without them.”</p><p>Kevin blinked. He had acted like a total ass to this guy and yet he was still being… <em>nice</em> to him. Well, now he felt <em>double </em>bad for having been so rude.</p><p>“No worries,” Kevin made a half-hearted attempt to smile, perhaps for the first time all day, “What can I get you?”</p><p>“How much is the, um…” The man squinted his eyes and peered behind Kevin at the menu. “Well, what’s the cheapest thing you have?”</p><p>Kevin’s jaw dropped a little. He wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten that exact question before. </p><p>“Oh, um. Probably a small coffee?” He replied with a glance back at the menu, but it came out more like a question. </p><p>“Then that’s what I’ll have,” the man said with a confident smile. “Actually, wait,” he called Kevin back just as he was about to walk away, “I’m sorry. How—how much is that exactly?”</p><p>“The coffee?” </p><p>The man nodded and Kevin’s mouth fell part-way open once again. How poor <em>was</em> this guy that he had to check the price of a small coffee? </p><p>“Oh, um. You know what, that’s okay,” Kevin waved it off. “This one’s on the house.”</p><p>“No, no,” the man held up a hand, “I can pay for it. How much?”</p><p>Kevin paused a moment before answering. He honestly didn’t want to take this man’s money at this point. It was Christmas Eve and he was quite obviously broke. Maybe he was a college student struggling to get by, or perhaps it was something much more grave. Kevin had no idea, but whatever this guy’s story was, it was clear he didn’t have a lot of money. </p><p>“One-twenty-five,” Kevin reluctantly supplied, “But it’s really not a big deal. Just consider it a Christmas gift, okay? I’ll even throw in a free cookie.” </p><p>“Mm-mm,” the man shook his head and began dumping the entire contents of his wallet out onto the table. “My mother always told me not to take charity. It means people feel sorry for you and if <em>they </em>feel sorry for you then it’s only a matter of time before <em>you</em> start feeling sorry for you.” He spoke the words as though he were reciting a speech. </p><p>Kevin didn’t want to rebut and so he just stood there, watching with a slight ache in his chest as the man counted out various dimes, nickels, and pennies until he had exactly a dollar twenty five.</p><p>“One small cup of coffee, please,” he beamed up at Kevin and placed the change into his palm, “Light and sweet.”</p><p>Light and sweet, indeed, Kevin thought as he accepted the change. For someone who appeared to be so poor and stressed out, this guy certainly seemed to have an optimistic attitude. </p><p>“Coming right up,” Kevin said, his lips curving into the slightest smile as he made his way back to the counter.</p><p>He poured the coffee into a large cup, even though the man had only paid for a small. It was the least he could do. This guy appeared to have a lot on his plate, judging by the way he was already back at it, furiously typing on the laptop as though whatever he was working on was the most important thing in the world. A small coffee just wouldn’t cut it for someone who had that much to get done. And on <em>Christmas Eve</em>, no less. </p><p>Kevin glanced up at the clock again as he bent down to fetch the creamer. <em>3:30</em>. The café would be closing in two and a half hours. Not much time for this guy to finish up whatever he was doing and go see his family or whatever he had planned for the holidays. </p><p>He poured a large dollop of creamer into the cup, along with two packets of sugar, to make it light and sweet. He then grabbed the biggest cookie from the case. It was shaped like a Christmas tree with green icing and gaudy-looking candy pieces for ornaments. He knew the man would likely not accept it, judging by his earlier <em>charity</em> speech, but there wasn't much he could do about it if Kevin decided to leave it on his table and walk away. </p><p>He didn’t usually bother with the stupid little doilies their boss always told them to use for the plates, but he rummaged around and dug one out of the stores for this guy. He had at least three other customers waiting on the to-go line, so he wasn’t sure why he was spending so much time on this one customer. He just had a nice way about him, Kevin supposed. One that made him want to spread a little Christmas cheer, for once. He wasn’t going to overanalyze it or anything. Because every time he did that, it was always a one-way ticket to Awkwards-ville with a few unfortunate stops at Sweating Profusely and Panic Attack Central, and he most certainly did <em>not </em>want to go there. </p><p>“Here you go.” Kevin carefully set the large cup of coffee and cookie plate down next to the man’s laptop, but the small gesture once again had him jumping back with a start.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” the man shook his head, as if annoyed with himself. “I’m easily startled.” He smiled in apology, but it quickly faltered when his eyes landed on the cookie. “Hey, I told you I didn’t want any freebies."</p><p>“Oh, this is no freebie,” Kevin lied, and it took <em>everything</em> he had to hide the smirk he felt pulling at his lips.</p><p>The man’s brow creased in confusion. “It isn’t?”</p><p>“Nope. The manager told me to make sure <em>every</em> paying customer gets a free Christmas cookie today. A little thank you for visiting the establishment all year round.”</p><p>The man turned and glanced around at the other tables. “I don’t see anyone else with a cookie.”</p><p>Kevin felt a blush crawl up his neck. “Yes, well, they obviously ate theirs already.” </p><p>The man looked a little skeptical, but his lips were tugging into a tentative smile as he turned back and met Kevin’s eyes. “That’s awfully generous of your manager.”</p><p>“I know, right?” He pretended to scoff, but it didn’t come out very convincing. “I thought so, too. But, oh well,” he shrugged, “can't argue with the boss.” And then he let that smile that had been yearning to break free spread across his face as he gave the table a little <em>tap</em>. “Enjoy.”</p><p>“Thanks,” the man said, sincerely, the amused glint in his eyes replaced by genuine appreciation. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Kevin glanced at the clock as he began stacking the chairs. It was approaching five pm and the man he’d begun to mentally refer to as <em>Cookie Boy </em>was still sitting there, still typing away at his laptop. They had developed a little banter over the past two hours where Kevin would come around with the offer of a free coffee that the man—after getting startled, of course—would ardently refuse, stating that he couldn’t <em>possibly</em> take any more freebies. But then Kevin would just fill up his cup, regardless. They didn't talk much, other than the little coffee bit they had going, but as the clock ticked on and the customer base dwindled, he found the man’s silent company a welcome comfort as he cleaned the café.</p><p>Kevin had mentally nicknamed him <em>Cookie Boy</em> after watching him scarf down that free cookie faster than he’d ever seen a person eat a cookie. He just hoped that it was because the man loved sweets and that the cookie was really, <em>really</em> delicious as opposed to the other possibility. Kevin didn’t even want to think about that, but as he leaned back against the window to take a short break from stacking, he couldn’t help the way his eyes involuntarily drifted over the boy’s frame. He didn’t look <em>gaunt </em>or anything like that, and so Kevin didn’t think he was<em> literally </em>starving, but still. Kevin knew what it was like to be poor and hungry and how sometimes you had to forgo a proper lunch for two or three or fourteen days at a time in order to pay the rent, and the way this man had gobbled down that cookie as though he hadn’t eaten in days just didn’t sit right with him.</p><p>It was quarter to six, now, and Cookie Boy was the only customer left in the place. He was still huddled over his computer, still typing away in the same uncomfortable-looking position he’d been in for the past four hours. Kevin knew he'd have to ask him to leave soon, as the café officially closed in fifteen minutes, but he wasn’t in any rush to do so. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to go and this guy obviously had something very important he needed to finish. Kevin wasn’t going to rush him. Besides, he still had the entire café to clean and that always took at <em>least</em> a half an hour. Maybe longer. Maybe even<em> longer</em> if he wiped down the tables really, <em>really </em>slow. </p><p>He also knew that once he asked this boy to leave that he would be all alone until his next shift on December 27th, which did not bother him in the <em>slightest </em>because Christmas this year was just another day, after all, nothing special to celebrate or anything. But still. It would have been nice to get to know this guy a little. He was cute and kind and sort of quirky and he seemed to enjoy their little coffee bit as much as Kevin did. If it wasn’t Christmas Eve, if it was just another normal day, he might have even considered asking him out for a drink after his shift. <em>Maybe</em>. He wasn’t the most forward person in the world when it came to the whole dating thing (he’d only been on two since moving here last year and they were both disasters), but a part of him felt like maybe—<em>just</em> maybe—he would’ve gotten up the courage for this one. He just seemed sort of special in a way that Kevin couldn’t quite put his finger on. </p><p>But the fact remained that it <em>was</em> Christmas Eve and surely this guy had somewhere to get off to. He <em>must</em>. He’s too sweet and kind and… and <em>perfect </em>not to have somewhere nice to go for the holidays. </p><p>“So, what do you have going on tonight?” Kevin asked as casually as possible as he leaned in and poured the man his signature free refill. “Anything exciting?” </p><p>He leaned in far enough this time that he was <em>finally</em> able to get a peek at the man’s name. <em>Connor,</em> it said in the upper righthand corner of the document. <em>Connor McKinley</em>. </p><p>“Oh, um, nothing major,” the man Kevin now knew to be <em>Connor</em> replied, looking slightly caught off-guard at the question. “Just going to see my, um,” he paused a moment, as if struggling to find his next words, “my aunt. Yes, my aunt. My Aunt Marge. She lives in Woodbury.” </p><p>“Oh, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah.” He smiled nervously as he watched Kevin pour a drizzle of cream into his cup. “She, um. She always makes this huge turkey with all the sides and everything. Oh, and she bakes the most <em>amazing </em>blueberry pie.” Connor’s entire face lit up as he spoke, seeming genuinely enthused about this pie. ”Her secret is she always puts these little crumb cake bites on top.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “It’s just to <em>die</em> for.” </p><p>“Wow.” Kevin raised a brow as he pulled back and capped the creamer. “That sounds...” <em>Like everything I used to have. </em>“That sounds nice.” </p><p>“Yeah.” Connor nodded, though his smile had quite obviously begun to fade, his eyes shiny with an emotion Kevin couldn’t quite pinpoint. “It is very nice.”</p><p>He turned back down to his laptop, looking noticeably more on edge than he had been before, and Kevin found himself wondering less about what this man <em>had</em> said and more about what he <em>hadn’t.</em> Not that this Connor guy was obligated to tell him anything. They had only just met, after all. Still, Kevin was curious. </p><p>“So, what about you?” Connor cleared his throat without looking up from his screen. “Got any big Christmas plans?”</p><p>Kevin froze as he went to wipe down one of the nearby tables, then awkwardly mirrored Connor by clearing his own throat. He didn’t want to tell this guy that his own parents didn’t want him to come home or that his best friend was clear across the country or that his big Christmas Eve plans entailed ordering a disgusting amount of Chinese food and stuffing his face until he puked.</p><p>“Nah, not really,” he tried to play it cool as he dried down the table with his other rag. “I might meet up with some friends later, but nothing crazy.” </p><p>Connor nodded, his brow creasing slightly in concern. “You’re not seeing your family?” </p><p>Kevin stilled mid-wipe. He wanted to appear casual, but these questions kept catching him off-guard. “Well, I was <em>supposed </em>to fly home and see them, but you know—<em>money</em>.” He shrugged and made a false <em>you-know-how-it-is</em> face and continued his cleaning. </p><p>“Where is home?” Connor asked as he brought the cup of coffee to his lips, the muscles in his shoulders visibly relaxing along with the topic change. </p><p>“Utah,” Kevin answered as he wiped down the next table. “I’m from Provo. What about you?”</p><p>Connor choked on his mouthful of coffee as Kevin said the words, his eyes going wide as he shakily put the cup back down. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Kevin approached the table, concerned. The boy was once again clutching at his chest. “Did I say something wrong?”</p><p>“No, no, not at all.” Connor shook his head, looking highly embarrassed as he wiped at his chin. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m from Utah, too. South Salt Lake.” </p><p>Kevin grabbed a chair and plopped down across from Connor. </p><p>“Are you serious?” He asked as he leaned over the table. “That’s only thirty minutes from my house!”</p><p>Connor laughed. “Small world, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yes.” Kevin smiled back. “Yes, it is.”</p><p>“Are you LDS?”</p><p>“Used to be.” Kevin lowered his gaze to the table. “I, uh. I had a bit of a rough time on my mission. Did some things my parents weren’t too happy with, then left the Church when I came home.” He looked back up. “How about you?”</p><p>“Same.” Connor nodded. “Sort of. I was all set to go on my mission and then at the last minute, I just decided I couldn’t do it. I came out to my M—<em>mmm...</em>” He stopped short, lips pursed together in restraint. “I’m sorry, this is—this is TMI, isn’t it?”</p><p>Kevin’s lips pulled into a smile. <em>Came out</em>. He said the words <em>came out</em>. That must mean—<em>yes</em>. </p><p>“No, go on.” Kevin could hardly contain the grin threatening to split his face. “I’m<em> all </em>ears.”</p><p>“Okay, well. I came out to my Mom a few months ago that I’m—that I’m gay—and she... Well, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, let’s just say that. Living at home got to be pretty stressful and I realized my life just wasn’t going the way I wanted it to, so I just… picked up and moved here!"</p><p>Kevin’s eyes widened. “Wow.” </p><p>“I know. It’s so crazy. I’m trying really hard to get into college. That’s what I’m working on, actually. I’m a semifinalist in one of the NYU scholarships I applied for. They pay a full ride which is what I need and this is my final essay. They pick five-thousand finalists out of fifteen-thousand and so I figure I have at least a one in three shot at getting it. But I only have until midnight tonight to send it out.”</p><p>“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry.” Kevin immediately stood back up. “I won’t bother you then.”</p><p>“No, you’re not.” Connor leaned forward and grabbed his arm. “I’m actually almost done. You didn’t bother me. Don’t worry.”</p><p>“Okay, well, take your time. I have plenty of cleaning to do.” He lingered by the table for a moment longer. “I’m Kevin, by the way. Kevin Price.”</p><p>Connor’s lips slid into a slow smile. “Connor,” he said and extended a hand, which Kevin took eagerly. His skin was soft, just as he suspected it would be. “Connor McKinley.” </p><p>“Yes, I—I know.” Kevin barely suppressed a grin as he turned around and made his way back to the counter, reveling in the very confused look he could see forming on Connor’s face in his periphery.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It was nearing six-thirty, now, and Kevin should have closed up and gone home a while ago, but he decided he really wanted one last round of “please take the free coffee” / ”oh, no, I couldn't possibly” before Connor left for good and he might never get to see him again.</p><p><em>You could ask him for his number</em>, a small, timid voice called out from the far reaches of his mind. </p><p><em>Wouldn’t that look kind of desperate?</em> He asked himself back. </p><p>
  <em>No, it’s called being a normal human being.</em>
</p><p>With a sigh, he nodded and resigned to asking Connor for his number. After they had one last go ‘round about the coffee, of course.</p><p>“Want one for the road?” He flashed a wide grin as he approached Connor’s table, not even giving him a chance to say no before pouring it right into his cup. And, yes, of <em>course</em> he expected the man to jump back with a start, much like he always did, but this time he jumped just a<em> little</em> too far and his shoulder came into direct contact with the hot canister of coffee and then—</p><p>“<em>Ahh!</em>” Connor sprung to a standing position as the hot liquid spilled out all over his sweater and then—</p><p><em>Ssssssss. </em>A sizzle sound came from below. Kevin’s eyes went wide as he looked down, to where Connor’s laptop sat. Only now, it was covered in coffee, thin tendrils of steam rising from the gaps in the keyboard. Kevin let out a horrified cry. The screen was off. It was totally fried. He <em>fried </em>Connor’s computer. </p><p>God, why couldn’t he ever do<em> anything </em>right? All he wanted to do was have <em>one</em> last round of banter with Connor about the free coffee before asking for his number and then (hopefully after <em>getting</em> his number), go upstairs to his apartment and have the lamest, most un-Christmassy Christmas Eve he’d ever had in his life. He didn’t want <em>this</em>. This was <em>bad</em>. He could feel his mouth moving up and down as he stared down at the soaking wet keyboard, but he was fairly certain no actual sound was coming out. </p><p>“No, no, no, no, <em>no</em>,” he could hear Connor’s panicked murmurings through his rapidly-deteriorating hearing. His ears were practically ringing. What had he done? “My essay. Oh my God, my <em>essay</em>.” Connor closed his eyes and pulled at his hair and Kevin could see his chest beginning to rapidly rise and fall. “No, no, no…” </p><p>“Was it on, like… the cloud or something?” Kevin mustered out, barely able to speak through the painful tightness in his throat. </p><p>Connor went still for a moment before slowly lifting his head and unclenching his fingers from his hair. He nodded and expelled a long breath. </p><p>“Yeah, it was, actually.” He sat back down, bending over a little as he let out a sigh of relief. “It was on Google Drive. Oh, God.” He clutched at his stomach and nodded. “Okay. It isn’t lost. It isn’t…” He heaved in a sharp lungful of air and Kevin instinctively reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He waited patiently as Connor collected his bearings, watching him nod to himself as he took in a series of slow breaths. “Oh, gosh." His muscles visibly relaxed as he sat back, fanning his face. "That really gave me a fright.”</p><p>Despite the gravity of the situation, Kevin found himself choking back a laugh; a sad, unexpected chuckle from the depths of his throat. The way this man talked was just so… <em>refreshing</em>. He had an innocent quality about him that Kevin had been told by so many others that he had as well. Kevin didn’t really see it when it came to himself, but he sure did see it in this man. </p><p>“The problem is, I still need to package it up and send it,” Connor said, exhaling another deep breath. “The deadline is today and now my computer... it’s…”</p><p>“My fault,” Kevin finished, trying to ignore the sudden burn behind his eyes. “Your computer’s dead and it’s all my fault.” He swallowed hard, only exacerbating the pain in his throat. “I, um. I don’t have any money or anything right now because I’m—well, I work here and that should tell you everything you need to know, but I <em>will</em> pay you back. It might take a while, but I will. Every cent of it. Just tell me how much it costs.”</p><p>“No, no, don’t be ridiculous,” Connor waved him off, a thin layer of tears glossing over his eyes. “It’s my fault. I shouldn't be so jumpy. Trust me when I say this isn’t the first laptop I’ve broken.” He tried to laugh, but it just came out sounding heartbreakingly sad. Kevin’s eyes flickered over the man’s forlorn face, wanting more than anything to fix this, somehow. To make it better.</p><p>“Listen, I, um—I have to close the shop now, but my apartment is right upstairs. It has a perfectly functioning computer that you’re welcome to use for as long as you’d like.”</p><p>Connor looked up at him with wide eyes, then quickly shook his head. “Oh, no. I—I couldn’t impose on you like that. It’s Christmas Eve. You must have somewhere to—”</p><p>“I don’t,” Kevin gently cut him off. “I don’t have anywhere to go.” </p><p>Connor’s expression changed to one of, dare he say, <em>pity</em>, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that right now. </p><p>“Oh, and you can borrow one of my sweaters!” Kevin went on, prompting Connor to look down at his lap to survey the damage. “You can’t show up to Aunt Marge’s with coffee-stained snowmen on your sweater. That would be <em>very</em> uncouth.” He forced his lips into a smile to try and lighten the mood. “And if she’s anything like my mother, she <em>might </em>even revoke your pie-eating privileges.” His fake smile widened into a real one as Connor let out a small laugh. “I’m just saying, we should probably be cautious here.” </p><p>Connor looked back up and locked eyes with Kevin. He sat there for a long moment, his smile fading slightly as he studied Kevin’s face.</p><p>“I don’t want to put you out or anything,” he said, hesitantly. “Are you <em>sure</em> you don’t—”</p><p>“I don’t,” Kevin quickly assured him. “I promise. Let me just finish cleaning up here and then I’ll show you to the computer, okay? Just give me ten minutes.”</p><p>Another smile. “Take your time.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“So, this is it,” Kevin said as he opened the door and let Connor into his apartment. Well, if he could even call it that. It was actually a formerly-empty office above the café that he asked the owner if he could rent since it wasn’t being used. It hardly qualified as a proper apartment, but still. It had a shower and a fridge and an extra room in the back that was big enough to fit his desk and his bed. It wasn’t the worst abode in the world. It was small and weird and it was difficult to kill all the bugs that travelled up from the café below, but it was<em> his </em>and that’s all that mattered. </p><p>As he brought Connor into his bedroom, all of those familiar hints of anxiety and nervousness he had felt so many times in the past began creeping in. Rapidly-increasing heart rate. Sweaty palms. Noticeable vocal stutter. He hadn’t been this nervous back in the café, when Connor was just another customer and Kevin was the barista, but now that they were alone, up here, in his<em> bedroom</em>, everything felt weird and awkward and he found himself dissecting and overanalyzing every word that came out of his mouth.</p><p>“Okay,” he let out a shaky breath, deliberately looking away from Connor as he opened his top dresser drawer. “Let’s find you a sweater.”</p><p>He rummaged through the neatly-folded piles of clothes, smiling to himself as he pulled out his favorite: a tasteful dark blue cardigan with a row of white, understated snowflakes and snowmen that lined the chest. Christmassy, but classy. </p><p>“How about this one?” He turned to Connor and held it up. "Would Aunt Marge approve?"</p><p>Connor nodded with a shy smile and took it from his hands. “It’s perfect, thanks.” He brought the sweater to his chest and held it there for a moment, looking unsure and contemplative as he maintained eye contact with Kevin. “But you know what, it’s, um. It’s getting kind of late and the snow is coming down pretty hard out there, so I’ll probably just skip Aunt Marge’s this year.”</p><p>Kevin’s face fell. As much as he was hoping for an excuse to spend more time with Connor, he hadn’t meant to ruin his Christmas plans or anything.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he apologized, sincerely. “It’s all my fault, isn’t it? The coffee and the computer—”</p><p>“No,” Connor practically jumped at the chance to deflect the apology. “It’s not. I was thinking earlier that it’s probably too late to go there, anyway. Besides, they’re saying it’s supposed to snow all night, so. It’s probably better if I just stay home.”</p><p>“Right.” Kevin nodded, willing his lips into a tentative smile. “That makes sense.” They stared at each other for a moment, Kevin shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “You can still borrow my sweater,” he stammered, swallowing a lump in his throat, “since yours is all covered in coffee and all.” </p><p>Connor nodded. “Thanks.”</p><p>A blush warmed Kevin’s cheeks as he turned slightly away, pretending to clear something off his desk. In his periphery, he could see Connor slipping off his soiled sweater and quickly pulling Kevin's on. </p><p>He was trying not to panic, he really was, but now that they <em>both </em>had nowhere to go, he finally had a chance to ask him to hang out. But as much as he wanted to do that, he also knew how much it would hurt if this boy rejected him. It didn’t help that he had absolutely <em>no</em> idea how to go about it. He’d never asked anyone out before. Not directly. Not someone he liked as much as he liked Connor. This one was important. He was special. And Kevin didn’t want to fuck it up any more than he already had.</p><p>“Well, the computer’s right here,” he cleared his throat and gestured to the desk. “The password is—” He paused mid-sentence, blushing again as he remembered exactly how embarrassing his password was. “You know what, let me type it in for you.”</p><p>God, he was<em> such</em> a loser. He thought exactly that as he typed in his password—<em>EspressoKiss, </em>a combination of his favorite hot beverage and the intimacy he did <em>not</em> desperately crave—and logged into his computer. </p><p>“It’s all yours,” Kevin turned and forced a smile, “Have at it.”</p><p>He took the soiled sweater from Connor’s arms and headed for the door. Just as he was about to leave, however, he heard a soft <em>thank you</em> come from behind him. The voice was thick with genuine appreciation and when Kevin spun back around, he could see the other man’s eyes were once again glassy, shrouded by a thin layer of tears.</p><p>“Thank you,” Connor repeated. “I can’t tell you how important this scholarship is to me. It’s my only chance to go to college, so it really—it means a lot.”</p><p>Kevin froze for a moment at the sincerity of the words. Blinking back to reality, he shook his head. </p><p>“Please. It’s really no big deal.” He awkwardly shrugged. “Besides, I <em>am</em> partially responsible for ruining your laptop, remember? I owe you one.” </p><p>He stood there for a moment, keeping his eyes locked with Connor’s for a little too long. </p><p>“I’ll, uh... I’ll be in the living room,” he eventually stuttered out and when he turned around, walked straight into the closed door with a<em> thud</em>. He heard a small, barely-stifled snort coming from behind him and when he looked back, that amused twinkle was back in Connor’s eyes. His very pretty,<em> very </em>blue eyes. </p><p>“Oops,” Kevin blushed as he opened the door, his entire body withering under the heat as he closed it behind him. It<em> was </em>hot in here, right? He wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety or the embarrassment or the way Connor looked ridiculously cute in his blue and white snowman sweater, but he was fairly certain his skin had begun to melt. </p><p>When was the last time he had a boy in his room, anyway? When was the last time he’d brought a boy to his apartment at <em>all</em>? Never, actually, now that he thought about it. </p><p>Damn. That was a <em>really </em>low number.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“There’s a boy in my room,” Kevin stated the moment his friend’s face was visible on his phone. He was holding it up in front of him as he paced behind the counter of the café. “There’s a boy in my room and I am <em>freaking</em> out.”</p><p>The man on the screen adjusted his glasses and squinted. “Kev?” He leaned in closer. “Is that you?”</p><p>“Yes, of <em>course</em> it’s me,” he huffed. “Did you hear what I just said?”</p><p>“You’re all blurry,” his best friend noted, still looking all squinty. “Reception must suck. I can barely make you out.” </p><p>“There is a <em>boy</em>,” Kevin restated, emphatically, “in my<em> room</em>.” </p><p>“Okay...”</p><p>“He was supposed to go see his aunt in Woodbury, but now it’s all late and—and snowy and now he’s just… <em>up there</em>, in my <em>apartment</em>.” </p><p>Arnold’s face wrinkled in confusion. “And that’s… <em>bad</em>?”</p><p>“No, no, it’s <em>good</em>. It’s very… very good.” Kevin felt a wave of heat crawl up his neck. “I just… I don’t know what to <em>do </em>with him. I mean, he’s just up there, in my bedroom, <em>right</em> now and I just. I’ve never had a guy up there before. I don’t know what to do.”</p><p>Arnold blinked and spent a moment just staring at Kevin, looking dumbfounded. “Uhhh… no offense, bud, but <em>you’re</em> the gay one, not me. Shouldn’t you know where to, um. You know, put it?”</p><p>“What? <em>No</em>, I’m not—” Kevin expelled a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not talking about <em>that</em>. I know how to do that.” </p><p>“Really?” Arnold asked, actually having the nerve to sound <em>surprised</em>. “Well, that’s good.”</p><p>“He’s using my computer to send in some paper and I—I want to ask him to stay a while and hang out with me, but how do I <em>do</em> that without coming off as sad and lonely and desperate for love?” </p><p>“Hmmm…” A slightly-blurry Arnold hummed, tapping pensively at his chin. “Do you have any<em> food</em>?”</p><p>Kevin’s manic pace came to a halt. “Food?”</p><p>“Yeah, like are you cooking dinner or something? For Christmas?”</p><p>“No, not really.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I was planning on ordering Chinese and having one of those sad, pathetic takeout Christmases.” </p><p>“So, ask him if he wants Chinese.”</p><p>Kevin blinked. Could it really be that simple? He was still rather new to this whole <em>dating</em> thing and had honestly expected it to be a bit more complicated.</p><p>“Just—just <em>ask</em> him?” He ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Just like that?”</p><p>Arnold grinned. “Just like that.” </p><p>“But what if he says no? Or worse, what if he says <em>yes</em>?” His voice went noticeably higher pitched with that last word. “I’ve never had a boy in my apartment. What am I supposed to do with him?”</p><p>“I thought we already went over this?” Arnold sounded confused. “You said you knew where to put it.”</p><p>“<em>No!</em>” Kevin growled and yanked at his hair in frustration. “Not <em>that</em>. Will you<em> please</em> get your mind out of the gutter? I meant, what am I supposed to <em>say</em> to him? It was all well and good when he was just a customer and we had the coffee bit going, but now… now he’s in my<em> bedroom </em>and he’s—he’s wearing my <em>sweater</em>, the one with the little snowmen on the front, and he’s just… <em>up there</em>, looking all cute and Christmassy and I just—<em>God</em>, why do I suck at this?” He pressed a sweaty palm to his face as he sank down to the floor. </p><p>“You’ll figure it out, bud,” Arnold said with a sympathetic smile. “We all do.” </p><p>And Kevin knew that if he were here, sitting next to him on the floor of the café, that his best friend would be pulling him close and giving him a reassuring pat on the back right about now, much like he always used to whenever Kevin was having one of his signature meltdowns. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“So, I was thinking about ordering some food,” Kevin tried to sound as casual as possible as he leaned against the wall. They were near the staircase, where Connor was getting ready to leave. “Chinese or pizza or something equally unhealthy.”</p><p>“Hmmm... Chinese or pizza,” Connor’s mouth curved into a knowing smile as he buttoned his coat, “That sounds about as un-Christmassy as you can get.” </p><p>“Yes, well, <em>un-Christmassy</em> is kind of my motto.” Kevin flashed Connor his best confident-looking grin. It quickly faded, however, as the reason for his current Grinchiness once again settled over him. “Well. It is this year, anyway.” He willed his lips to maintain a slight smile as he shrugged. </p><p>“Well, I do hope you enjoy,” Connor said as he pulled on his hat. “And thank you again for letting me use your computer. And for the sweater. That was very kind of you.”</p><p>Kevin’s smile collapsed as he watched Connor turn and head for the door. He shook his head in bewilderment. Did he manage to fuck this up already? </p><p>“No, wait,” Kevin ran up behind him, catching him by the shoulder and prompting him to turn around, “I, um. I was actually inviting you to join me. Sorry if I didn't make that clear.” </p><p>Connor’s eyes widened as they met Kevin's and the brief hesitancy was enough to send his brain reeling with negative, self-deprecating thoughts. He was confident in most of his endeavors, but romance was simply not one of them. </p><p>“I would love to,” Connor said and Kevin’s heart practically shot out of his chest, “But, um, money’s a little tight for me right now,” he added, looking a little embarrassed. “I won't have any until I get paid next week. I actually spent the last of it on that coffee, so."</p><p>“Oh, no, this would be on me,” Kevin rushed to explain. “Don’t worry about that.”</p><p>“No, I really—I can’t.” Connor looked down and shook his head. “I’ve already taken enough freebies from you today.”</p><p>“This isn’t a freebie. This is…”</p><p>
  <em>A date. It’s a date. Just say it. </em>
</p><p>“Oh, and we can have drinks!” Kevin stuttered out. “It wouldn’t be Christmas Eve without drinks, right? I don’t have eggnog or anything fun like that, but I do have vodka. We could make vodka cranberries. That’s sort of Christmassy, isn’t it? It’s… um.” He clapped his hands together. “Well, it’s red.” </p><p>“I thought you were going for <em>un</em>-Christmassy this year,” Connor reminded him with a knowing smirk.</p><p>“I was,” he said, realizing, then, that the longer he spent time with Connor, the more he was changing his mind on that. “But, now… I don’t know. I’m feeling Christmassy again.”</p><p>He allowed his voice to soften as he spoke, letting his guard down<em> just</em> enough to admit that Connor was having an effect on him; that maybe he needed this even more than Connor did, that he would be the one doing <em>him</em> a favor by staying, not the other way around. </p><p>“So, do you wanna, like… drink something red and watch a Christmas movie or something?” Kevin asked, allowing an undercurrent of laughter to lace his words. “I know it’s probably nothing compared to Aunt Marge’s blueberry pie with the crumb cake topping, but it’s all I got.” </p><p>There was no hesitation from Connor this time. “I’d love to.”</p><p>“You would?” Kevin asked, and he knew the obvious relief threading his tone would have made him terribly embarrassed if he wasn’t so overjoyed. </p><p>Connor gave him a hesitant nod and smiled back. “Sure. But only if it’s not too much trouble.” </p><p>“No, no, it’s no trouble at all. I want you to stay. But are you sure Aunt Marge won't mind? You can probably still make it there if you hurry.” </p><p>Connor paused a second, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “No, I really don’t think she will.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Connor,” Kevin said, sternly. “Before I met you, my plan was to order way too much food and eat my weight in wontons, so trust me when I say it’s fine.” He handed him back the menu. “Just pick something. Pick something you like and don’t worry about the money, <em>please</em>.”</p><p>Connor sighed and begrudgingly accepted the menu. “But I really do <em>like </em>white rice. And these places give you so much of it. And there’s <em>no </em>way you're eating all those eggrolls. There will be plenty leftover for me.”</p><p>“Pick something,” Kevin repeated. “Pick your favorite thing. And I’m not taking no for an answer.” </p><p>“<em>Fine</em>,” Connor rolled his eyes and looked back down at the menu, “but has anyone ever told you you’re <em>extremely</em> stubborn?”</p><p>“Many times,” he smirked, “now pick something.” </p><p>A comfortable silence fell over them as Connor perused the menu and Kevin went to work on making their vodka cranberries. He didn’t drink too often, but Arnold had given him a bunch of alcohol and mixers as a little housewarming gift last year and so he had plenty of supplies. </p><p>“So, what are you trying to go to school for?” Kevin asked as he poured four shots into the cocktail shaker.</p><p>Connor looked up in surprise, then turned back down to the menu. “Oh, um. Acting, actually.”</p><p>Kevin’s eyes widened. “<em>Acting</em>?” He shook his head in admiration. “Now, there’s something I could never do.”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Connor kept his eyes trained on the menu, but there was an unmistakable twinge of amusement in his voice. “You were very convincing earlier. For example, I <em>almost </em>believed you about that free cookie.” </p><p>Connor waited a moment before lifting his head, the knowing grin on his face bright enough to light up the room. </p><p>“Yeah, alright, you got me,” Kevin tried to hide his own amusement as he shifted his gaze back to the cocktail shaker, “but in my defense, you looked as though you could <em>really</em> use a cookie.”</p><p>Connor paused a moment before turning back down to the menu. “You were right.”</p><p>They were quiet for a few moments after that, Connor studying the menu and Kevin mixing their drinks. He shook the shaker and poured two bright red servings over ice. Squeezing a bit of lime into each glass, he picked one up and tasted it. Not bad.</p><p>“I’m really sorry about your laptop,” Kevin walked over to where Connor sat and handed him his drink. “I know how expensive they are and I really meant it when I said I’d pay you back.”</p><p>“I know you did,” Connor said, and Kevin couldn’t detect even a hint of insincerity in his voice. “And I meant it when I said it wasn’t your fault. I’m jumpy.”</p><p>A sad smile pulled at Kevin’s lips. This guy was so kind. It was clear he didn’t have a lot of money—or any money, for that matter—and yet he didn’t even seem angry about the laptop. And he’s an <em>actor </em>to boot?</p><p>He peered down at the menu in Connor’s lap, using it as an excuse to touch his shoulder. “So, what did you decide on?” </p><p>Connor lifted his head and, gosh darnit, even the way he<em> sipped</em> was adorable. “Oh, um. Just a pint of sesame chicken.”</p><p>Kevin made a face. “That’s all you want?”</p><p>Connor smiled and handed him back the menu. “That’s all.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Kevin ordered him a quart of sesame chicken, anyway, despite his protests, along with several pints of various other unhealthy delicacies such as pork fried rice, vegetable lo mein and fried wontons. And that was just in addition to everything Kevin had already planned on ordering before he met Connor. They spread their giant food haul onto the coffee table in the living room, where they fired up Netflix and began perusing the holiday movie selection. </p><p>“So, don’t you have to call her?” Kevin asked through a bite of food as he clicked through the movies. Connor was sprawled out on the sofa beside him, looking adorable in Kevin’s snowman sweater as he happily noshed on an eggroll.</p><p>“Call who?” He asked around a mouthful of food, eyes trained on the tv screen.</p><p>“What do you mean <em>who</em>?” Kevin laughed. “Your Aunt Marge. It’s almost eight. Isn’t she going to wonder where you are?”</p><p>Connor froze mid-bite and Kevin could tell that vodka cranberry he downed just a<em> little</em> too fast in the kitchen earlier was starting to hit him. He swallowed the bite and sat up, looking a bit wary of whatever he was about to say.</p><p>“Yeah, about Aunt Marge…” He blushed, looking sheepish as he ran a pair of hands over his thighs. “I’m afraid her existence has been <em>greatly </em>exaggerated.” </p><p>There was a brief pause where they just stared at each other, eyes locked, until both of them burst into laughter, falling back into the sofa as though this revelation was the funniest thing in the world. It was a sound Kevin wasn’t used to hearing in his apartment, unless he was watching a particularly funny movie, and, even then, he rarely laughed aloud.</p><p>“I don't know if you got the memo,” Kevin leaned in close to Connor and grinned, “but Mormons aren't supposed to lie. That’s, like... rule number one in the handbook.”</p><p>“I know, I know,” Connor laughed and looked down at his lap, “But I’m technically not a Mormon anymore, remember?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Kevin said, softly. “Yeah, me either.” </p><p>He kept his gaze on Connor’s profile, taking a moment to admire his flawless, pale skin, the tiny freckles that dotted his cheeks, and the tuft of thick auburn hair that curled around his ear. There was no doubt about it, now, he thought to himself with an internal sigh: he was <em>definitely</em> smitten. </p><p>“What about the pie?” </p><p>“Oh, the pie is real,” Connor said, turning to face Kevin. “It was my favorite food at Christmastime, my mother’s blueberry pie. I would make sure not to eat too much dinner just so I could have two slices.” He looked down, again, the expression on his face changing to one of shame and guilt. “I’m sorry I lied," he swallowed hard enough for Kevin to hear. "I just felt embarrassed, I guess. At not having anywhere to go. At the fact that my own parents haven’t spoken to me in months.” A sad laugh escaped his throat, his eyes glazing over as they drifted to the television. “Sometimes you don’t even want to say it out loud, you know? Like if you don’t say it, then maybe it isn’t real.” </p><p>Kevin’s gaze lingered on the side of Connor’s face, not at all liking the tint of red he saw coloring the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t understand how Connor’s parents could do that to him. It didn’t make any sense. His own parents hadn’t even done that and they were <em>beyond</em> upset with him after he came home from his so-called “failure” of a mission. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Kevin said, his voice thick with sincerity. “I’m so sorry. You don't deserve to be treated like that. Nobody does.”</p><p>“Don’t be sorry.” Connor shook his head, a fresh well of tears gathering in his eyes as he met Kevin's. “I’m not.”</p><p>Kevin reached out and tentatively cupped Connor’s knee. “I, um. I was supposed to go home and see my parents, too. They know I don’t have any money and could’ve easily flown me out there, but they didn’t.” He paused a moment as a fresh wave of hurt surged through him. “They’re still pretty pissed about my mission and the whole… leaving the Church thing. I thought they would’ve gotten over it by now, but they obviously haven’t." He let out a breathy laugh, hating the way his voice was starting to crack. "Oh, well." He shrugged. "Maybe next year."</p><p>Connor’s eyes flickered with empathy. “Oh, Kevin,” he cupped the hand that was cupping his knee, “I’m so sorry.” </p><p>“It’s okay.” Kevin waved it off. “I’m having a much better time with you, anyway. Really.” </p><p>Connor nodded. A visible layer of tears had begun to form in his eyes, as well. “Yeah. Me too.” </p><p>The silence was heavy as they sat there, eyes locked together, both of them seeming reluctant to turn away.</p><p>“So, we should probably pick a movie,” Kevin cleared his throat as he turned back to the TV, where the piss poor collection of holiday-themed Netflix movies were still awaiting their selection. “How about <em>The Knight Before Christmas</em>?” He turned to Connor. “Could be so bad it’s good.”</p><p>Connor’s lips slid into a smile. “That sounds amazing.”</p><p>Kevin’s apartment didn’t exactly have what you’d call “Christmas ambience” (as he decided not to decorate this year out of protest), but they had a candle and their drinks were red and there was a guy on TV dressed like Santa Claus and Kevin found that the more he laughed with Connor, the more it started to feel like a normal, happy Christmas Eve. Kevin was smiling. He was <em>laughing</em>. He was getting slowly and <em>blissfully</em> tipsy. He was happy, for once. More happy than he could remember being in a very long time. Being with Connor had that effect on him. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d only known him for six hours as it honestly felt more like six years. </p><p>He didn’t have too much experience in the romance department, however, and so making the first move in terms of physical affection wasn’t something he was planning on doing. But the longer they sat there and the more they laughed and the more they unconsciously scooted closer together, the more Kevin yearned to touch him. He would never be so bold as to kiss him or God forbid go <em>further</em> than that, but maybe he could gather the courage to wrap his arm around his shoulders or something. <em>Maybe</em>.</p><p>The movie soon became little more than background noise as the entirety of Kevin’s brainpower was focused on how to go about this. He wanted to wait for the right moment, but he had no idea what constituted the “right moment” or not. He waited long enough for the movie to get to the obligatory sad, emotional part and when he caught the sight of a tiny tear worming out of Connor’s eye, he used the opportunity to go for it. </p><p>Kevin could see his hand visibly shaking as it hovered nervously over Connor’s shoulders, and it took a few moments for him to finally relax enough to lower it down, resting it against the back of Connor’s neck. If the other man was surprised, he didn’t show it. Kevin had honestly half-expected him to push him away or, at the very least, jolt back with a start the way he did in the café every time Kevin came around with the coffee pot. But he didn’t do any of those things, just leaned back a little, into the touch, and placed a hand over the top of Kevin’s leg. </p><p>Kevin let out a shaky breath and turned his attention back to the movie. It took several minutes for the feeling of relief to settle in, for his heart rate to return to normal and his hands to stop shaking, but eventually they did and the both of them just sort of sank into each other’s warmth, melting into the innate comfort that only the close proximity of another living being can provide.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Well, it’s getting pretty late,” Connor said about an hour later as the movie credits rolled down the screen. “I should probably get going.”</p><p>Kevin’s mouth fell open, but luckily the pathetic <em>please don’t go</em> yearning to escape his lips was successfully held back. </p><p>“Oh. Yeah, of course,” he said, instead, trying his best to hide his disappointment. His heart pulled in his chest as the warm body that had been pressing into him for the past hour separated from his own, leaving his side suddenly cold.</p><p>He didn’t want Connor to go. He wanted him to stay. Not that he expected anything sexual from Connor on this… was it their first date? Was it a date at all? He didn’t know what it was, but no, he didn’t want <em>that</em>. Well, yes, okay, he <em>did</em> want that, eventually, but not tonight. He simply didn’t want to say goodbye is all. </p><p>He watched sadly as Connor walked over to the staircase and pulled on his coat. He reluctantly followed, grabbing his guest’s gloves and hat from the closet. </p><p>“I know it wasn’t nearly as good as Aunt Marge’s would have been, had she actually existed,” Kevin tried to joke as he pulled Connor’s hat down over his messy auburn hair, “but this wasn’t too bad, was it?”</p><p>Connor looked up at him, his eyes glassy with an emotion that was difficult to pinpoint. A reminder that there was still so much about him that Kevin didn’t know. But he knew enough. Enough to know he was a kind person with a good heart. And that was really all that mattered. </p><p>“It was perfect,” Connor said, sincerely. “Thank you.” </p><p>They kept their eyes locked for a few moments longer, both of them seeming reluctant to be the first one to break it off. </p><p>“It was really nice meeting you,” Connor said and turned around, but Kevin instinctively reached out and latched onto his shoulder, gently pulling him back.</p><p>“Stay.” The words left his mouth without warning and when Connor turned back around, his big blue eyes were wide with surprise. “Stay,” he repeated, softly. “You can’t spend Christmas Eve alone.”</p><p>Connor held his gaze for a moment before slowly darting his eyes around Kevin’s apartment, drifting over the couch and then to the door that led to the bedroom. Kevin realized, then, what Connor was probably thinking and shook his head. </p><p>“No, I wasn’t—<em>God</em>, I wasn’t suggesting we do anything like <em>that.</em>" He let out a nervous breath. “I just don’t think anyone should have to wake up alone on Christmas Day, that’s all. Especially not someone as sweet and kind as you.” </p><p>Connor’s eyes widened further. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to quickly change his mind. “I can’t.” He shook his head. “My mother always told me never to take charity. It makes you—”</p><p>“This isn’t <em>charity</em>, Connor. This isn’t me feeling sorry for you or taking pity on you or anything like that. I just… I<em> like </em>you, okay? And, well, if you wanted to stay, I—I would like that, too.” He expelled a shaky breath. It was difficult for him to admit things like that. “Besides, we haven’t even watched <em>It’s a Wonderful Life </em>yet and that’s, like, mandatory Christmas Eve viewing.” </p><p>Connor laughed softly at the quip and Kevin took that as a sign to step a little closer. He took Connor by the hands and squeezed them.</p><p>“Please stay,” he said, softly. “I <em>want</em> you to stay.”</p><p>Connor's lips stretched into a slow smile. “And do you always get what you want?”</p><p>Kevin tilted his head to the side and pretended to think it over for a moment before turning back to Connor with a smirk. “Pretty much, yeah.”</p><p>Another laugh came from Connor and Kevin thought he could <em>really </em>get used to that sound. As his laughter subsided, he took a moment to study Kevin's face, an amused smile playing at his lips.</p><p>“Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll stay. But I am <em>not</em> sleeping with you on the first date.” He pointed a finger in Kevin’s face. “Let’s just get that straight right now.”</p><p>Kevin’s eyes widened, momentarily taken aback at both the forwardness of the statement and the fact that he had used the word <em>date</em>. “No, I—I would never expect you to.”</p><p>“Good.” Connor beamed. “Now that that’s settled—” </p><p>And then a pair of slender hands were cupping Kevin's cheeks, pulling him into a kiss. He let out an accidental moan into Connor's mouth as they crashed together. His lips tasted like coffee and cranberries and <em>Christmas </em>and as a pair of foreign, yet strangely familiar, hands found the skin of his waist underneath his sweater, Kevin couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be lonely. </p>
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